‘No.’
‘Okay, how about with sorting out and taking any medication?’
‘No.’
‘Making meals? Putting a wash on? Doing a bit of a dust and hoover round?’
‘No.’
‘Company?’
‘Company?’
‘Yes, company. Having a chat, sharing a cuppa or a sandwich.’
‘Arthur and I always shared a teacake at eleven o’clock.’
I don’t know why I’m telling her.
‘Well,’ she says, ‘perhaps you and I could do something similar. Or if you want to keep that as a special thing for just the two of you, we could make up our own tradition.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like… maybe we could have a hot chocolate and a biscuit? Something decadent like that? Or I could make us some scones to have with butter and jam? It’s up to you, Mabel. But we can do whatever you like to make life a little brighter, a little easier. And we can change it around as we go, too. If you find you do want help with some of the other things I mentioned, after all, we can do that.’
I can see why she’s in this job. There’s something soothing about her voice. But she can’t go around eating scones and jam with everyone she looks after, can she?
‘Are you any good with computers?’ I ask. ‘I’m not useless like some old people. Arthur always said we had to keep up. He bought an iPad when they first came out and we both used it. It’s just, I’d like to look for someone I’ve lost touch with, and I don’t know how to go about it.’
Julie sits back, thinking. ‘You know, I always used to say to my Martin that this job was like ten jobs rolled into one. Healthcare assistant, cleaner, chef, you name it. But personal investigator is a new one on me. Is it an old flame?’
I snort. ‘No! An old friend. Dot. She moved away unexpectedly after my brother died. She was expected to marry him, you see. And then he passed, and she scarpered.’
Julie’s looking at me, transfixed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘About your brother. I’m so sorry your brother died.’
‘Oh. Yes, well. It was a long time ago now.’
‘Would you like to talk about him?’
Other than at Arthur’s funeral, I haven’t talked about Bill for years. Decades. Arthur rarely brought him up and after our parents died, there was no one else who really knew him. I didn’t think it mattered, after so long, but her offer brings him to mind, his cheeky, handsome face and the way he’d put an arm around me if he could see I was nervous about something.
‘No, thank you,’ I say, but it’s a lie.
Julie nods. ‘All right. Listen, I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with you, Mabel. I’d like to help you, if I can. So you just tell me if I say anything you don’t like. I’m sure you will.’
I will.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ she says. ‘I find that’s always a good place to start.’
When she comes back in she’s got the cups and saucers we had as a wedding present. She must have rooted around a bit for them. I always liked them but Arthur preferred a mug and that’s what we ended up using, day to day. And she’s found some biscuits. Custard creams. She puts mine down on the windowsill.
‘I like a cup and saucer,’ she says. ‘I always used to say to my Martin, what if the Queen dropped in? It would be nice to be ready for her.’
‘He left you, you said?’
She looks shocked at that, but she hides it again quickly.
‘He did.’
‘Recently?’
‘Two weeks.’
‘I lost Arthur a month ago.’
‘The difference is, I’m sure your Arthur would have stayed, if he could.’
She’s right about that.
‘What’s he like? Your husband?’
She blows her fringe out of her eyes and looks straight at me. There’s something about her nose. It’s a bit pointy and it makes her look like she might be snooty, though I can see she’s not. ‘He’s just your average man, I suppose. He was the first one to pay me a bit of attention, and the next thing I knew, everyone was talking about marriage. But he does make me laugh. Did. Anyway, it’s not over till the fat lady sings, and do you hear me singing?’
She’s joking, I know, but she’s not fat. If I knew her better, I’d tell her so. She could just do with some trousers in a bigger size, and she’d look fine.
‘You’re hoping to get him back, are you?’
‘I am, Mabel. It won’t work out with this new one, will it? She’s turned his head, that’s what it is. But I can’t see her putting up with his nonsense for long, and then he’ll come crawling back, and I’ll make him promise to take me somewhere really special, to make up for it, and that will be that. By the time I’m your age, God willing, it will all be a distant memory. It’ll be “Remember that time when?” Do you know what I mean?’
I want to say that she should forget about him. He doesn’t sound worth the effort. But you can’t tell people how to live their lives. Or you can, but it doesn’t work. I know that better than most. So I just nod.
‘Now then,’ she says, ‘tell me about this friend of yours we’re going to go looking for. Do you know for sure she’s still alive?’
The thought of Dot being dead almost makes me laugh. Because I’ve never known anyone quite so alive. But then, I might have said something like that about Bill, once.
‘I haven’t seen her for sixty-two years. I don’t know anything, other than her name. And she might have married, of course.’
Of course she would have married. Someone like Dot doesn’t go through life on their own.
‘Well, that sounds like it’s going to be quite a task, then, doesn’t it? But we’ve got time. I’ll have a bit of a think about how we might go about it, and then we’ll make a start, all right? Now, could I make you something for your tea? Chop some vegetables or something? Put a wash on? I don’t feel like I’m doing my job just sitting here chatting.’
I don’t like the thought of her rooting around in my washing basket, so I ask her to peel and chop some potatoes and carrots. From the front room, I can hear her singing in the kitchen, one of those big ballads. She’s surprisingly tuneful. It makes me realise how quiet the house has been. Arthur was always whistling or humming or talking, and although we were often in different rooms, it’s a small house and I knew he was there. It’s nice, I think, to have a bit of company. Perhaps it’s what I needed, and he knew that before I did. It can be like that, after a lifetime together. I always knew when he was coming down with a cold, or when he’d put on a bit of weight. And I always knew when he had a lover.
9
That young girl’s words – ‘if you want to talk’ – have been going through my mind for days, now. So when I see her, it feels a bit strange, like when you dream about someone and then they appear. She’s on the bench nearest the graves, which is a bit of a problem because I like to stand there by the fence and have a chat with my family, and I can’t do that if there’s anyone else around. I’d feel like a fool. Will she remember me, from the other day? I pull my coat tighter around me. She isn’t wearing one and the sight of her makes me shiver. I approach the fence, lean slightly against it, and Olly sits down. When I turn, she’s looking at me.